


Sexy Syrup and Sullen Souls

by StarLove18



Series: Secret Magic (Outtakes) [1]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: AO3 FB Challenge, Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Music, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dark Character, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Food Kink, Forced Orgasm, Frottage, Hinted Duo/Hilde, Identity Porn, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mind Control, Multiple Personalities, Near Death Experiences, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Other Fandoms Not Mentioned in Tags, Past Relationship(s), References to Drugs, Rough Body Play, Sexual Violence, Shameless Smut, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-11 10:17:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13522152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarLove18/pseuds/StarLove18
Summary: When one’s inner demons hatch, breakfast prep takes a strange route. Fear and manipulation takes hold of a successful band behind closed doors.





	Sexy Syrup and Sullen Souls

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the “3 Year Challenge” via AO3 FB. I just want to thank the community for their drive and encouragement to keep on writing. 
> 
> Another special shout out to my Beta, Jadeune, for zooming through this on such short notice. You’re awesome - thanks for being my 2nd pair of eyes!
> 
> ~~~*~~~ = denotes flashbacks
> 
> Hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: Gundam Wing and its characters are the property of Katsuyuki Sumizawa, Sunrise, and its affiliates. I'm only borrowing them.  
  
This morning began with a typical debate in the hallway. Since Zechs had left extra early for the airport, dropped off his sister, then drove to work, The G-Boys had to rely on their skills. The clock displayed 7:30 am, and the group hadn’t established who would handle breakfast.  
  
“Breakfast is on you,” said Heero. “I have a written lab report to finish.”  
  
Duo shook his head and responded with a squeaky voice, “Nope. Not today!” He eyed Heero and held an air of defiance with crossed arms.  
  
Wufei rolled his eyes and faced Heero. He couldn't stand Duo’s antics. Ever since they've moved into this mansion, courtesy of Mr. Lowe, the braided youth had found other innovative means to agitate the group. So far, he was fortunate.  
  
“Katas this morning. You know the drill.”  
  
Duo looked up with woeful, puppy eyes. He clasped his hands and whispered, “Why me?”  
  
“Because you never cook,” Heero said. “You need to learn at once, or else you won’t be able to survive.”  
  
“Survive?” asked Duo. “That is my main profession, besides stealth and-”  
  
“‘I’m the God of Death. Kneel before your master!’” Wufei mocked.  
  
Duo raised an eyebrow and scowled at the Chinese youth. His voice had lowered three octaves. “You realize that’s not the proper line.”  
  
“Oh, really?” Wufei challenged him with his left eyebrow raised. “Where were you on the day we’ve made song names and lyrics?”  
  
Duo snorted as his nose pointed at the air. “I went on a date, thank-you.”  
  
“What time do we meet next week?” Heero asked.  
  
Wufei smirked as Duo played at the end of his long, braided ponytail. The American felt uneasy as he tugged and fixed the collar of his pyjamas. This was karma at work. Thank the gods!  
  
“Er, well… you see… I loved basketball.”  
  
Both Asians shared a funny look and chuckled. Six seconds later, they regained their poise. “We cannot accept your pathetic excuses,” Heero said. “Now answer the question.”  
  
Duo shrugged and kept twirling his braid. Heero wasn’t going to make him talk. Stupid control freak!  
  
Heero’s cobalt eyes fell downcast as he stared at the floor. Score for Duo. His voice, laced with a hint of helplessness, spoke low, “I thought Zechs told everyone in the group.”  
  
“He did,” Wufei confirmed. Heero had failed to realize his Chinese comrade could still hear. They stood side by side, after all. Wufei’s speech volume gradually rose as he pointed an accusatory finger in Duo’s direction. “Unfortunately, a certain someone declines his sole duty.”

“We’re supposed to commence our _Ground Zero_ project.”

“You better have some songs written!”

“If we fall behind schedule, we'll be squashed by our competition.”

“And with our massive fan base, they’re already looking forward to our new stuff. Trowa and Quatre also agree.”

“I would really appreciate it if you left Cloud Nine behind…”

“And wake-up!”  
  
Damn it all! There’s no such thing as winning against these two. Duo’s arms flew and slapped his thighs as he snapped, “Fine! I didn't include that on my agenda.” The twenty-year-old crossed his arms and moped. “Happy now?”  
  
Before Heero could counter, Trowa spoke.  
  
“As much as I’d love to watch you guys fight someday, there’s no valuable reason to lose more time.” He offered them a pleasant, affectionate grin as his thumb pointed at the clock. Their eyes met his. “I’ll take care of breakfast.”  
  
“Oh, thank the heavens!” blurted Duo as he jumped into Trowa’s arms.  
  
“Appreciate it. I’ll see you guys in an hour.” Wufei gave his comrades a wave as he departed.  
  
Heero nodded, with a silent “thank-you” as he stepped back into his room.  
  
Acknowledgements made, Trowa scrunched his face. He twisted his head away from his comrade.  
  
“What’s wrong?” asked Duo.  
  
The Latin youth closed his eyes. “The shower is free upstairs. Please use it before Zechs returns.”  
  
Duo felt his cheeks burn. He hopped away. “My apologies, man. See you in a few!” The American youth dashed for the stairs. One would think he had had ten high doses of caffeine.  
  
With a sigh of relief, Trowa straightened his red bathrobe and entered the kitchen.  
  
×-+-×  
  
Cupboards and pantries opened. He retrieved two frying pans, a Dutch pot, a wooden spoon, and his favourite spatula (courtesy of Catherine). Various ingredients for the pancakes and cornmeal porridge laid out on the island. Trowa loved cooking. It granted him the ability to get productive. This hobby still served as an outlet to escape from recent events.  
  
He had killed Dekim Barton... with Heero’s help.  
  
That boastful idiot who often addressed Trowa as Nanashi.  
  
Chop. Chop. Slice!  
  
Nanashi represented everything the young man detested. Nanashi grew up too fast; Master Ukrit gave him zero permission to play with children his age in Russia. While he camped with the rebels, he became just as raw and aggressive under their influence. Nanashi had gained unwanted exposure to illicit sex during his stay in Rome, by the son of Marco and Maria. They never knew what had happened in their absence.  
  
Mix. Crack. Pour. Shake.  
  
Measure. Repeat.  
  
Nanashi nearly outed Trowa at the circus event in Colorado last summer when he fought three strange men behind a tent. His identity issues attacked him in his sleep, so he sat up to write lyrics or stared out the window.

Nanashi also helped three of his comrades get bailed out of jail… but this effort came at a hefty price. Dekim sent a few of his shenanigans to act as casual guests among the massive crowd, while Nanashi became the stripper. He attained success for their bail plan as he sang, danced and stripped while putting the moves on Lady Une. She was only a one time guest; two of her closest friends took her out. Fortunately, she didn't recognize him. Treize, her lover, had no idea what went on that night. The crowd went ballistic at The Jack ‘n’ Jill Club. Three days later, Heero, Duo and Wufei returned home. They never knew what he did. Even Quatre, and his sisters, Catherine and Melania, had no clue.  
  
Three drops of vanilla extract. A dash of cinnamon.  
  
Bubble, bubble big round pot.  
  
Nanashi brought an end to Trowa’s secret love affair with Wufei. Dekim’s spies installed spy cameras. While the pair became ensnared in the intensity of passion, Trowa’s arch enemy watched every detail. At least the tabloids stopped spreading lies about the group, as Dekim had promised.

Nanashi contributed to the drug ring with thirty percent of Trowa’s savings. He had hoped Nichol got pulled in the crossfire, but it was Heero who ended up with ecstasy and cocaine after their last World Tour. Odin was furious, and Zechs cancelled their fun night at Love Hina's VIP Pool Party. Bad move.  
  
Mix and blend. Batter.  
  
In the frying pan, you go.  
  
Nichol, one of Une’s puppets from The Oz Crew, grew jealous and persuaded Alex and Mueller to get rid of Trowa... yet, those moments activated the demons in the Latin’s mind. After an auction organized by Dekim that fateful Friday night, Nanashi taught them real manners first. In an abandoned apartment, he tied them. Stripped them. Forced orgasms by insertion of objects with no lubricant. Whipped their backs with chains. Made them scream and beg for mercy. Once finished, he shoved both men out of the building and laughed as they shivered in the bitter, frosty air. Nanashi had set their clothes on fire.  
  
The pans simmered with ease. Pots bubbled. Chop. Chop.  
  
Trowa wept in the aftermath of each event. His humanity faded for a time but, every time it returned, his heart broke. After Dekim’s murder, freedom was not yet his. He still struggled with the heinous things he had to do, every time his group mates faced chaos with management or the mass media. He needed help before things trickled down to his other half hurting those closest to him.  
  
Nanashi was a cruel actor when triggered.  
  
Chop. Chop. Mix and blend. Batter.  
  
Repeat.  
  
“What are you making? It smells great.”  
  
“Berry-filled pancakes.”  
  
Quatre’s face lit in awe. “How many strawberry flavours?”  
  
“Two dozen,” Trowa said. “I’m trying to catch up with the others.”  
  
To Quatre’s surprise, a pile of strawberry pancakes took precedence over the alternatives. It was the tallest stack out of the bunch. As the Arabian youth gazed in wonder, Trowa smirked. He knew Quatre loved strawberries... As he poured the last blueberry batter into the frying pan, he seized a jug of maple syrup from an adjacent cupboard.  
  
“Take the fruit bowl from the fridge,” he commanded.  
  
“Why?” Quatre asked.  
  
“It's almost time for breakfast. Before Heero closes his laptop, Wufei ends his katas, or Duo dries up from his shower, I want to show you something.”  
  
“Oh, okay.” Quatre retrieved the bowl from the refrigerator and placed it on the island counter. “So what's next?”  
  
Trowa turned the stove on low heat. He took a strawberry out of the bowl and winked.  
  
“Watch me.”  
  
Quatre obeyed but why was he complacent? In natural circumstances, he had a mind of his own - but that gleam in Trowa’s visible eye captivated him. These chains, he couldn't break. Gorgeous, athletic, smart; just a few ways he termed the Latin youth in his mind. Trowa poured the maple syrup on the tip of the strawberry. He set the jug aside and gently blew the syrup doused fruit, then his tongue slithered out to lick it. His tongue swirled around the fruit for what appeared to be minutes. Slow, seductive strokes caressed its ridges; the tip of his tongue now prodded the tip of the strawberry. As he pulled his tongue back into his mouth, his lips connected as he smacked the tip of the strawberry. Throughout the “show”, he never took his eyes off of Quatre’s teal pair.  
  
Trowa assumed a seductive position against the counter. His upper body leaned over it. Part of his robe revealed his pecs and a nipple. His rump cocked out. He kissed the strawberry and beckoned the blonde with a whisper, “Come closer.”  
  
Quatre felt a shiver down his spine as he watched Trowa’s ministrations. This invitation, freely given, closed his frontal lobe. Quatre approached his comrade, dragged by the heartstrings as Trowa, his puppeteer, poured more maple syrup. Without warning, Trowa shoved the strawberry in Quatre’s mouth.  
  
“Chew.”  
  
The smaller youth obeyed; his taste buds had a party as the flavours intermingled. Trowa unbuttoned Quatre’s pink blouse, snagged two strawberries, nibbled each one, leaned in and their lips joined. As their tongues swirled, Trowa rubbed the bitten strawberries on Quatre’s pecs in slow circles. Quatre’s arms wrapped around Trowa’s waistline and drew him even closer. Their hips rocked together as the strawberries melted in their ravenous mouths. Another series of strawberries left a crimson, juicy trail on Quatre’s collarbone, shoulders, between his pecs, slid to his navel and trailed up again. Trowa’s capable hands learned how to gratify because Quatre’s moans requested more. The tall youth broke the kiss. Although he sought to catch his breath, he never drew his eyes from his companion's glazed ones.  
  
Quatre whimpered as his boy crush applied maple syrup to the strawberries he bit. He hated to admit it, but the Latin’s body language held a high fluency score in the sex department. Sex defined his expression, the impulse of his touch, and his fluid movements. Trowa used one hand to open Quatre’s shirt; buttons popped and flew as he positioned him. The smaller youth laid out on the island counter.  
  
"Put your hands in your pants and rub yourself."  
  
Trowa’s voice dripped with honey. Quatre complied, tingling sensations sent his nether regions into overdrive. He could no longer take this.  
  
“Give yourself a squeeze and hold. Stop pumping. Look at me.”  
  
Quatre obeyed and held his breath. Both of Trowa’s eyes were visible. With two doused syrup strawberry in each hand, the Latin youth gave Quatre a wink. Without warning, he slammed the fruit on Quatre’s nipples. Loud moans flooded the house.  
  
“That’s it. I love the sound of your voice.”  
  
×-+-×  
  
Upstairs, the bathroom door slammed open as Duo crashed on the floor. ‘Someone’s in danger!’ He thrashed in a frenzy and scrambled. The exuberant youth got on his feet. In a swift motion, he slid on his jeans and rushed downstairs. The sounds grew louder as he sped past the living room, the laundry room, the basement entrance, and the dining room. At the kitchen entrance, his eyes widened.  
  
“Holy shit!”  
  
Trowa kicked the fruit bowl aside as its contents flew and splattered across the room. He snagged the jug of maple syrup, flipped the top open and recklessly poured it on Quatre’s chest, torso and genitals. Quatre regained consciousness as he felt the tingling sensation again. He moaned.  
  
“Oh god... Trowa... I can’t... Oh!”  
  
The Latin youth now faced his Arabian secret with a genuine smile.  
  
“Don't worry, love,” he said. “This is your treat.”  
  
‘His treat?’ Duo thought angrily. ‘As if! You’re treating him like a toy!’  
  
He stormed in when Trowa divested his boxers and opened his robe. The braided youth froze; only two steps in.  
  
Quatre’s eyes shimmered - he was a sight to behold. Trowa gave the smaller youth a wink and poured some strawberries on him, which made his playmate giggle. He hopped on the table, mounted Quatre and closed the distance. Their noses touched; eyes glimmered with untold promises. Trowa’s tongue slithered out and traced Quatre’s lips. He kissed him...  
  
Quatre felt the exhilarated thrill as he pursed his lips. When Trowa kissed him the second time, he offered the invitation.  
  
Their tongues wrestled as the kiss deepened with urgency. Quatre wrapped his arms around Trowa’s waist. His hips bucked when Trowa’s erection touched his. He moaned in the heat of Trowa’s mouth.  
  
Trowa broke the kiss and stared at his lover once more. Their actions paused; each one permitted to catch their breath.

“You’re so beautiful,” the Latin youth whispered as he stroked Quatre’s cheek.  
  
“Thanks,” the Arabian replied. “Likewise. I never knew you had muscles.”  
  
Trowa laughed lightheartedly. This was the same person he met in preschool during his family’s stay in France. When they met at high school in Atlanta, Quatre thought he recognized him, but he wasn’t too sure until he heard the flute play in the schoolyard... Auburn hair, emerald green eyes. It was him alright.  
  
“Make yourself comfortable,” Trowa said. Quatre obliged. Trowa kissed his nose, earlobes, eyelids, cheeks and his lips.  
  
His kisses and licks took a trip down south. He paused each time he caught a strawberry in his mouth. Trowa raised his head, pulled Quatre’s close, and the pair nibbled on the strawberry until their lips met. The air grew heavy while the action repeated ten more times. By the time Trowa made it past his navel, Quatre held his head.  
  
“Trowa,” he began. “Come closer. I need you right here.”  
  
The blonde licked his lips for emphasis. Trowa smirked and climbed on the counter again. Their sweaty bodies meshed and mingled as they ravished, caressed, moaned and rocked. Ecstasy was theirs.  
  
Excitement knocked the opened jug of maple syrup off the counter. Knives, measuring cups, cutting boards and two brass bowls fell and clattered on the floor. Trowa’s manhood rubbed and ground on Quatre’s in slow, defined motions. Their moans and cries flowed in unison with the maple syrup that spilled to the floor.  
  
Duo was so caught up in the scene before him. It looked like something he could try with Hilde one day...  
  
Trowa ground against Quatre harder.  
  
“More... please... ah... feels good.”  
  
The braided youth shook his head. Despite being a flirtatious maggot with the ladies, he was still convinced that it was wrong to treat them as objects. For a moment, he felt grateful that Father Maxwell had imparted this knowledge to him.  
  
Trowa’s groans saturated the air when Quatre’s index finger traced the cleft of his butt. It tickled his puckered entrance.  
  
“Oh yeah... rub it, babe! Unnngh! Yeah... ah... shit…”  
  
A pang of guilt tugged at Duo’s heartstrings as he backed away to the kitchen entrance. Trowa has been a good lover during this second round - well, from what he’d witnessed anyway.  
  
“I... love... you... oh!”  
  
He shouldn’t have. They deserved their privacy. Heck, everyone was licensed to drive so Duo had zero excuses. He could’ve dropped by the nearest Waffle House or Tim Hortons, ordered his breakfast and returned home. With mobile phones becoming a trend, he would’ve called his Asian comrades to find out what they’d want. There’s no way they were going to eat inside that kitchen.  
  
The volume of their voices gradually increased with the speed of their unified movements.  
  
“Oh! Trowa…”  
  
“Mi coraźon... te amo…”  
  
“Je t’aime…”  
  
“You’re mine... ah!”  
  
“Kiss me... please…”  
  
Their mouths clashed with fervour. Two bodies slithered and smacked as the maple syrup mixed with their sweat. Precum flowed from both slits like a fountain. As they broke the kiss, Trowa and Quatre experienced that heavy, wanton desire for release between their legs.  
  
An ashy smell invaded Duo’s nostrils. He snuck in and looked around. The frying pan had one blueberry pancake that was overcooked. It started to burn.  
  
“Ah! Quatre! Come with me, babe…”  
  
Yikes!  
  
Duo rushed over, switched it off and removed the pan from the burner. He flipped the pan upside-down, shook it, and watched the poor, blackened pancake land on the floor. Without further hesitation, he tossed the pan in the sink and dashed for the exit - no - he paused mid-step and fantasized about Heero in this position. They’ve shared a few stolen moments last year, but they never made it this far.  
  
“I’m... about... to…”  
  
“I love you, Trowa!”  
  
“Ah... Oh! Te amo, Quatre!”  
  
Their cries filled the atmosphere as their essence spilled and milked the counter. With firm, powerful thrusts, their muscles contracted. Their balls throbbed. Their cries dropped a few octaves as they came.  
  
Lips locked.  
  
‘They won’t wake up for a while. Time to run!’  
  
Duo slipped on his heel and fell to the floor when a blade landed next to his foot. A dagger? Talk about bad timing! Duo resorted to shuffling his way out of the kitchen instead. His ears captured the sound of a cleared throat. An indignant tone raised the question.  
  
“Did you enjoy the show?”  
  
Duo froze. How did Trowa wake up so fast? There was no sign of daggers in his bathrobe when they’ve embraced earlier.  
  
“Do you know what I do to spies?”  
  
It was time to admit defeat. He’s never gotten caught this easy before, except for that one time when he was five at the produce market in Houston. Duo, Solo, and their newfound friends had searched for warmth with no success.  
  
The people were so cold and demeaning; a buff man held Rex and Toby at gunpoint. Duo ordered Jack and Felix to rush back to Solo and Stefon. When they’ve followed through, Duo used some cans of spaghetti sauce as ammo. He aimed for the buff man’s head, hands and back. Each can he threw caught the bad guy off guard when his gun fell from his hand. Rex and Toby rushed over to Duo who gave them each an apple, stuffed more apples in his bag, and they ran into a police officer who took all seven boys into custody…  
  
“I’m waiting, Maxwell. What were you doing in here?”  
  
Duo spun on his rump and faced a neutral Trowa as he spoke.  
  
“It just happened,” he said. “The pancakes were starting to burn up, so I fixed it. I also thought someone was in trouble-”  
  
“Trouble? I love the sound of that. Let’s play a game.”  
  
Duo raised an eyebrow. “What game?” He asked with a hint of suspicion. “Can I like, finish my side of the story first?”  
  
Trowa snickered. “There’s no name for this game. And forget about your story.”  
  
He retrieved a serrated knife from the floor and took five giant steps towards a frightened Duo. The neutral mask fell. Something was off - Duo knew it.  
  
“All you have to do is watch. No interruptions, no foul play, and nothing happened in here.”  
  
Trowa waved the blade in Duo’s face. An ominous glint sparked in his visible eye. Combined with an air of power and a straight face, Trowa’s actions were worthy of Duo’s nightmares.  
  
“If you make any intrusions or break these rules, I will kill you.”  
  
Duo’s gut performed 360° flips. His breath intensified, throat tightened and his lips quivered. What was going on in Barton’s head? Trowa stalked towards a restful, oblivious Quatre.  
  
Wait a second…  
  
Duo mustered the strength to speak. His voice croaked a few times, but he had to confirm his suspicions.  
  
“What are you doing? Why are you heading towards Quatre? He needs to rest, got damn it! In here really needs to clean up. Besides, it’s not hard finding yourselves a room.”  
  
“I’m giving you a show, and I would really appreciate it if you shut your trap for once.”  
  
Duo’s ramblings stopped. That look on Trowa’s face; he’s witnessed it twice before when they were younger.

~~~*~~~  
  
Domon Kasshu’s management team got breached. The group had just finished three tracks for their sophomore album, _Endless Waltz_. Trowa and Duo rushed to the washroom when they’ve heard the voices of Domon and an ugly man named Tsubarov.  
  
“Treize will take over from here,” he said. “He sends his warmest congrats for creating one of the best boy bands in history.”  
  
“Treize can kiss my ass!” Domon snapped. “I don’t do business with crafty nuts. Understand?”  
  
“Well, you certainly lack in the respect department. Big boys should be taught better than that. I suggest you sign these. Otherwise…”  
  
Trowa and Duo crouched near the door. They watched as Domon recklessly swiped the forms off his desk, planted his fists on it and glared at Tsubarov. “Otherwise, what?”  
  
Tsubarov held the barrel of a gun at Domon’s chest and sneered, “This bullet will go right through your heart, so choose wisely.”  
  
Both boys rushed into the office and separated the men. Duo used his body as Domon’s shield while Trowa caught Tsubarov in a headlock, grabbed the gun, and tossed it into the nearest trash can. His ominous glare pierced at Tsubarov like a knife. It’s a good thing their growth spurts kicked in.  
  
The second time was seven months later. After a night at the arcades, two members of their group had disappeared. Heero received a physical beat down in one hotel room; Wufei was drugged and sexually assaulted in another. Despite their pride, both teens had experienced brokenness. Heero kept his stoic persona despite his bandages and notable bruises; Wufei felt anxious and vulnerable, wrapped in a blanket. He wept in Trowa’s bosom, shaken in sobs. The moment Duo and Quatre physically reached out to Wufei, Trowa sent them that ominous, piercing glare, followed by a threatening, “Back off.” Although both eyes were visible, his countenance shifted from calm assurance to pending attack. His grip on Wufei tightened, albeit protective, and his stretched legs established a distance between them and the others. Even Heero shuddered with fear and yanked Quatre’s arm to pull him away from Trowa’s proximal space.

~~~*~~~

That look scared the daylights out of Duo. He remained silent where he sat. Trowa smiled, yet his eyes blazed on.  
  
“It’s my turn now. Trowa is taking a nap. Don’t move,” he ordered. His voice dropped a few octaves and it acquired the tone of an authoritarian.  
  
Duo’s voice broke. “I don’t trust your motive, Trowa.” He shuddered at the anticipated scene. “What are you going to do to him?”

“Like I said, Trowa is taking a nap. Now keep your mouth shut.”  
  
Trowa climbed onto the island and towered over Quatre’s form.  
  
Duo raised his voice. “Answer me, Trowa!”  
  
Trowa lowered his body onto Quatre’s...  
  
“Stop!”  
  
The tall youth ground against the blonde cherub with power, stamina, and precision. It woke his playmate who jumped in surprise. His moans fell out of sync when Trowa’s erection slammed and smashed his hardening member. Things took a violent turn from here.

Duo could no longer watch. He had to end this. He rose to his feet and stormed over to the pair. Trowa paused, grabbed his knife and pointed the blade at Duo’s face.

Duo frowned. “I don’t care if you kill me,” he spat. “Do your worst - there will always be the authorities, including Lucrezia Noin, Zechs’ girlfriend. What makes you think the truth won’t come out? If you want to tarnish your own rep and give the masses a reason to speculate, you’re in for an endless ride.” He gestured Quatre, who shook his head. “Hurting your best friend? Trowa, you need to wake the fuck up! I’m sorry for spying on you earlier, I really am. But this mess ends here! All you have to do is drop that knife, remove yourself from Kitty Quat, and take a cold shower.”

Trowa’s expression softened and he tossed his knife away. He rose up, apologized and grabbed Duo by his collar. He pulled the American in as his ominous glint returned.

“Fuck. You.”

He shoved Duo aside. As the braided youth stumbled and fell, Quatre found the strength to speak. “Trowa?” He shook the Latin by his shoulders. “Trowa, what’s wrong with you?”

“For the umpteenth time, Trowa is taking a nap. Call me Nanashi,” came the curt reply. “One day you’ll understand.” He spread the blonde’s legs. “One day you’ll rescue me from him.” He climbed onto the counter. “One day, I’ll be Triton Bloom - but right now, I’m worth nothing…”

All this time, Trowa stared out into space while he spoke. He never looked at Quatre, nor noticed Duo who crouched and nursed his upper arm.

Quatre’s teal eyes widened at those words. “That’s not true! You are Triton Bloom, and you are worth it.” He closed his legs when Trowa forcefully spread them again. He mounted Quatre. “Trowa, no… I don’t want this. Please stop.” The taller youth rolled his hips and slammed. The smaller youth’s unwanted moans turned into wails when Nanashi increased the pace. Frightened, he attempted to push him off, but Nanashi grabbed Quatre’s wrists and slammed them above his head. He sucked the blonde’s neck, took the upper hand by locking their legs, and attacked with his hips. Sweat dripped from his brow, teeth clenched and his groans imitated a lion’s snarl.  
  
The sounds and sight of skin slapping skin captivated Duo, but he hated this scenario. A wave of nausea churned in his stomach, but Nanashi was unarmed this time. He could still win. Quatre’s panicked wails, albeit disturbing, pushed Duo to save him. He approached them from behind and wrapped his lithe arms around Nanashi’s waist. He pulled, but Nanashi grinned and unhooked his left leg from Quatre’s.

“Get off of him!” Duo snapped.

“Only on my terms,” said Nanashi.

A hard, fierce kick slammed his stomach. Duo doubled over and landed in his initial spot. He glared at the auburn-haired youth, but fear replaced his courage. Nanashi’s eyes shook him to the core. He’d shown no regard for the pleas of the Arabian, nor the feelings of the American who watched in horror. Tears filled their eyes.  
  
While this senseless act continued, those feral emeralds concentrated on Duo, as if they said, ‘Do not tell, or I will kill you.’

In his view, Quatre laid out as a starfish on the breakfast table, helpless and mewling with flushed pink cheeks, uneven breaths, and fluttered eyes that rolled. Quatre’s body was at Nanashi’s mercy.  
  
As he shifted to the sixty-nine position, Nanashi stroked and sucked Quatre’s tool with high intensity. He failed to realize Trowa’s playmate fell in and out of consciousness. He gripped the blonde’s shaft and toyed with his balls. Nanashi’s fingers walked, jumped and danced. It wasn’t long until Quatre came with a wail.  
  
Nanashi sucked and licked Quatre’s salty-sweet nectar dry. Slowly, he raised his head until his comrade’s penis was free from the warmth of his mouth with a “pop”.  
  
Duo’s mind spun. It seemed as though Trowa fell under the influence of...  
  
Nanashi? What was that?  
  
Nanashi changed positions again and held the blonde hostage. He locked Quatre in a grapevine hold, nibbled on his earlobe and whispered, “You’re mine. All mine! Understand?” His attack resumed on the blonde’s nether regions. “Stop crying!” he hissed. “It spoils the fun. You’re stronger than that.” Nanashi’s left hand clamped over Quatre’s mouth to muffle his screams and sobs. His teeth grazed the blonde’s neck - every time Duo begged him to stop, he proceeded to bite.

“You’re my possession now, no one else’s,” he whispered with a monotonous tone. “Not even the one you call Trowa or Triton. This music industry has ruined everything and I will make you remember that.”

In desperation, Quatre gathered whatever strength he had left. Despite the unwanted squeaks and moans that his voice gave in to, he uttered, “Please... stop. Trowa... this is... wrong. I... know you’re... in there... somewhere. You’re worth it!”

Duo’s body shook. He wanted to protect Quatre who was running short of breath. He wanted to tell - no - demand that Trowa puts an end to this dirty game! It seemed as though the taller youth sought to fulfill his own desires. He wished he was stronger.  
  
Duo opened his mouth to shout, but nothing came out.  
  
Just then, the room fell silent. The Latin struggled to straighten up with great effort; his mouth hung open in an O-shape as he came. Semen spurted and dribbled onto Quatre’s thigh, manhood, and heart. Out of breath, the Arabian drifted and limped. Trowa’s body convulsed as he kissed the youth beneath him; forehead, lips and collarbone. His attention returned to the uninvited guest as he wrapped his fingers around the Arabian’s tool. His thumb massaged the mushroom tip in slow, languorous strokes. A semi-conscious Quatre mewled powerless; unable to keep up, his release spilled. Duo’s voice trembled.  
  
“Trowa…”  
  
“Shut up, Duo!”  
  
“But, why? Why did you do this?”  
  
Nanashi ended his manipulative game and hopped off of Quatre. He landed in front of Duo, with a death glare that rivaled Heero’s. He sneered, "Get out and pray for your sins. Unless you want pancakes."  
  
Duo felt a lump in his throat as his stomach performed somersaults and his heart rate increased. In his defence, he raised his hands in defeat and backed away. Nanashi was, no doubt, territorial. His height, muscles and hardening manhood exuded a power that Duo didn’t comprehend. He couldn’t speak and had long since lost his appetite.

The real Duo would’ve gone on an endless rant and fought back.  
  
“Go ahead,” Nanashi spat. “Run and hide like you always do and keep the picture too.”

Duo did just that. He ran for the back door as his tears fell. His sobs got in the way of his judgment.  
  
x-+-x  
  
A panicked Duo dashed out of the house and bumped into Wufei. Their bodies clashed as they fell and landed on the green grass. A mass of tangled legs and arms throttled and rolled into a frenzy. Sev eral minutes later, a furious dragon pinned death in a grapevine hold. His hands locked his opponent's wrists in a demand to surrender. A frustrated death bucked his hips to throw the dragon off, but it served no purpose...  
  
Except for getting his erection fired up. He could’ve sworn his comrade experienced the same sensation when his left thigh got trapped between his opponent’s legs in their tussle.  
  
Duo bucked his hips one more time when Wufei tightened the hold. Breaths intermingled; a pair of blue-violets and a pair of onyx exchanged icy, determined glares. They laid on the grass; chest to chest, belly to belly, and crotch to crotch. Their noses were mere inches apart, and Wufei’s calves tortured Duo’s own by spreading them wide. Despite being fully clothed, their current position screamed erotic. Anticipated curiosity gave them permission to try. Both young men felt shocks of buried, awakened pleasure tingle in their nether regions as they rocked...  
  
Then Duo’s memory slipped back to the kitchen incident. Perhaps this wasn’t a great idea. What if most men grew violent the way Trowa did? Got damn, what became of Quatre? The answer to one of his secret prayers arrived when the Asian lost interest.  
  
Wufei shouted in his ear, “Can’t you pay more attention? Look where you’re going, Maxwell!”  
  
Ouch! Duo ’s right ear rang as Wufei released the hold and climbed off. The American gathered himself, rolled a few metres away, and sat on his shins despite the pain. His long chestnut braid dishevelled with grass in the mix. Wufei’s ebony hair flew in random places with grass. His ponytail lost its tightness.

Duo glared at the pest who returned the same gesture and noted how pink the latter’s cheeks were. Was he blushing? Unable to hold it in much longer, Duo chuckled and choked on his sobs. Even though what occurred just now was funny, Quatre’s position on the counter invaded his mind. The horrible things Trowa did to both of them…

The Chinese youth interrupted his thoughts.  
  
“You find this funny?” Wufei snapped.  
  
Duo hid his face in his hands. There was no way he could allow his friend to grow more heated. Besides, University plus Treize took a major toll on them, especially ‘Fei. Duo decided to lighten things up. He refused to remove his hands, and his somewhat exuberant voice felt shaky and strained.  
  
“You looked hideous just now... and cute. Like chilli peppers!”  
  
“Wow,” Wufei muttered as he looked at his feet. “I wonder what Trowa cooked because I have classes later. I can’t afford to sit through a lecture on an em-”  
  
“Skip breakfast!” Duo warned . “Or you will regret it.”  
  
Wufei scoffed. “How?”  
  
“Trowa’s not himself, and Quatre looked like his pancake for breakfast…”  
  
Wufei rolled his eyes. “You know what, Maxwell? You’re an idiot. I’m famished, dirty, and talking to you is a waste of time.” The Chinese youth rose to his feet, gathered his things and headed for the door.  
  
“I’m dead serious!” Duo scrambled to his feet and rushed to Wufei’s side. The American native blocked the back door. “Have I ever lied to you?”  
  
Wufei reached for his sword behind him. Duo’s eyes widened in horror.  
  
“Um, Fei?”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“What are you planning to do?” Duo pointed at the sword in Wufei’s hand. Apprehension marked his features.  
  
“What do you think I should do?” A sly grin marked Wufei’s features.  
  
‘Okay, Duo. Think fast!’ An idea clicked. He needed to avoid Trowa for a while. Wufei would make a great shield in case things flew out of hand.  
  
“Enter the house before me,” Duo said, “but whatever you do, don’t walk into the kitchen.”  
  
Wufei raised his sword and placed the blade under Duo’s chin, without cutting. His voice dropped two octaves as he spoke. “If you are serious, Maxwell, I need you to bring food to my room. Bring it on a tray.” He lowered the blade. “Here’s to hoping Trowa doesn’t fulfill his wishes to kill you.”  
  
“What if I don’t make it back alive?” Duo asked.  
  
“Then I will make your afterlife miserable,” Wufei said. “Deal or no deal?”  
  
“Um... as long as we can try that again on the grass.”  
  
Wufei smirked and placed his sword in its sheath. “I thought you’d never notice.”  
  
“The God of Death could use a partner like The Dragon, any day,” Duo said.  
  
Wufei grabbed his comrade’s braid and yanked him till their noses touched. “Show me after school.”  
  
Duo winked. “Deal.”

“Wait a minute.” Wufei cupped Duo’s face and examined it. “Why were you crying?”

Duo spun and and looked away. His masked disguise proceeded to fade. “If I tell you, I'm a dead man. That is unless, the person who made that threat returns to normal again.”

Wufei raised an eyebrow. “Are you serious? I swear I’ve sensed a strange aura when I got back. A mere ten minutes before you showed up.”

Duo sniffed as the memory haunted him. His upbeat countenance fell. “Promise me you won’t go berserk.”

Wufei stood his ground without waver. “What happened?”

Finally, Duo’s tears fell. He could no longer hide his sobs, either. Wufei held him close and stroked his chestnut hair. The clues struck him right there and then.

Trowa’s threats to kill Duo… He’s not his normal self… He made Quatre his “pancake” for breakfast...

This didn’t sound kosher. If the whole ordeal was a joke, Duo wouldn’t be flustered with tears and resentment. He needed to get to the bottom of this after school.

‘Damn you, Trowa!’  
  
×-+-×  
  
Heero unplugged his headphones, closed his laptop and stretched in his "office" chair. He felt relieved; a report of 2,000 words was complete. Doing academic work never granted him the same thrill as playing games, research, or hacking data, but this was worthwhile. He knew Dr. J would give him a top grade for organization, context, method and format.  
  
University didn’t have to be hard.  
  
As he walked out of his room, he rubbed his eyes when the scrumptious scent of food kissed his nostrils. Trowa still had talent! His footsteps increased. He needed a meal in his mouth.  
  
Now!  
  
Just as he made it to the kitchen, a delirious, tattered, naked Quatre greeted him.  
  
“Wha- what happened?” asked the Arabian.  
  
Heero’s jaw dropped at the sight of him. Disgust shone in his cobalt eyes. What was going on in here? He composed himself and pinged back with a question.  
  
“I should ask you that,” he said. “Why are there strawberries splattered all over your torso? Your hair is a mess and you’re virtually on display.”  
  
The Japanese youth crossed his arms as Quatre noticed his surroundings. Heero sniffed the air. Disdain marked his features as he sent a death glare in Quatre’s direction. Uh oh...  
  
“This food is not healthy for consumption. What did you do?”  
  
Quatre gathered his strength and sat upright on the island counter. There was no sign of Trowa... he went for a shower? The moment he analyzed Heero’s body language and angered expression, the Arabian youth had a pang of guilt. What has he done in the kitchen? He seized the moment to scan the space and shuddered.  
  
An abandoned jug of maple syrup laid on the floor. He found the strawberries that Heero mentioned on his torso. The residue of dried, sticky juice stains took residence on his chest. In the worst case scenario, he discovered something else: Semen?  
  
Was it his or Trowa’s?  
  
Quatre looked terrible for his indecency. This mansion was everyone’s domain. It was their sole responsibility to care for it and be mindful of others. He failed. Quatre further noted the disappointment and mistrust written on Heero’s form. What took place earlier was the greatest thrill, but once the ride had ended, fun became a farce. Without hesitation, the blonde pushed himself off.  
  
Sharp daggers of pain radiated between his legs as he slid from the island counter. He hissed. Recollections of three blackouts. Trowa still fooled with him after his release. He had struggled to push him. Tried to slap his hands away. Begged him to put things on hold. He thought death was upon him because his breathing increased.  
  
Trowa had fallen on a different tangent. His thrusts during their frottage session turned violent. Quatre still thought of the way his comrade gripped his wrists. The fuzzy memory of hip slamming at high speed. Even the charisma his Latin friend used while he received an unwanted blowjob...  
  
Trowa had gone from warm to cold, from gentle to erratic.  
  
“I don’t quite know where to begin. I’m sorry, Heero.”

The tears fell as guilt and shame overtook his frame. Quatre shrunk and crumpled to the floor. Heero disappeared from the kitchen for a moment. He returned with a pair of navy blue sweats for the blonde to wear. Despite his sobs, Heero made the effort to cover his nakedness below the waist. He also noticed something unusual on Quatre’s neck.

“We’ll eat breakfast, or lunch, elsewhere.”

Heero drew his friend close and picked him up. It’s time for a shower. All the same, he had some serious questions for Trowa after school.

×-+-×

Alone in his closet, a tall figure stared at his reflection. His frame shook as he glared, crumpled, shivered and sobbed.

“Why won’t you leave me alone?”

Trowa wept bitterly. 

“Quatre, Duo, I’m so sorry. I don’t know how to stop him.”  
  
~Owari~

**Author's Note:**

> Coming soon to a Fandom near you... Secret Magic! (Rated M)
> 
> This chapter’s events happen in the middle of the story. It will help a great deal to see what occurs beforehand, right?


End file.
